One of a writer’s loftier goals is to move a reader, so it humbles me that my column two weeks past achieved this — literally.

Indeed, a number of people emailed to say they were inspired to get moving. Specifically, to go “plogging” — a term derived from the Swedish “plocka upp” — and “pick up” litter while out on a run or brisk walk.

“It was definitely exercise — bending over 34 times to retrieve the 34 items I bagged and brought home with me,” shared local resident Shay Collier. “This was a 3-mile walk through my neighborhood, which I do most days. I didn’t change from my normal speed but had no problem spotting the trash as I quickly moved along.”

Shay’s one-day dirty laundry list brought to mind my own “plogging” experience over the course of a full year along a one-mile section of my daily running route.

Specifically, my personal “Adopt-A-Highway” was a busy two-lane road with a wide dirt berm where it borders a lemon orchard. While this stretch smells citrusy wonderful during picking season, it had also become an ugly dumpsite.

Truth be told, pushing a wheelbarrow while I ran would have been helpful, for this proved to be a far greater Sisyphean challenge than I had anticipated. No sooner would I push the boulder three steps up the mountain when newly tossed litter knocked me two steps backward.

Undeterred, a handful at a time I tackled the routine litter first: fast-food bags and paper wrappers; soda cans and beer bottles; and plastic grocery bags, which came in handy for carrying extra trash.

Next, I went after other small things like DVDs and CDs; batteries and books; an alarm clock and a couple of dead cellphones; clothes and shoes; Barbie dolls with broken limbs and stuffed animals in need of sutures; wrenches, screwdrivers and saw blades; a football helmet I wore home while running; and a wallet, with money still in it, that I was able to return to its owner.

With the bigger junk — a television, stereo system, drum set, car muffler, bike frame — I took a different approach. I carried these heavy items a mere 50 or 100 yards each day before resuming my run. Eventually, however, one by one I got them home to toss out curbside or take to the e-waste recycling center.

Some stuff was simply too big and heavy to lug home, even incrementally. A loveseat, for example, I struggled to move 10 yards up the embankment to the roadside. A few days later, however, I was able to flag down a trash truck. After explaining my project to the driver, he helpfully hauled the small couch away.

There also were a couple of road-kill coyotes and one full-grown pig that must have caused major fender damage while meeting its demise. For these, I phoned Animal Services.

All told, I “plocka upped” everything from A to Z, including the kitchen sink. I am exaggerating, but barely, for I did clear away a bathroom sink.

Returning full circle to Shay Collier, on account of my mentioning that John Wooden had a different term for “plogging,” calling it “picking up orange peels,” she concluded her litter list serendipitously: “and yes, an orange peel!”

Email Woody Woodburn at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. His books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.